


A Wolf Yet Unweaned

by Soundingonlyatnightasyousleep



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Glove Kink, Lactation, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Overstimulation, Size Kink, Sub Erik, Temperature Play, but not dog samot, dom samot, no one is allowed to ask me any questions about this fic, surprise lactation, well this was inevitable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soundingonlyatnightasyousleep/pseuds/Soundingonlyatnightasyousleep
Summary: Everyone's favorite feral ice prince and flamboyant extremist make very fun use of their powers. Wink.





	A Wolf Yet Unweaned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imperialhare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperialhare/gifts).



> Welcome to our joke crossover ship that has become real, I was going to write an explanation of each canon here, but they're both actually extremely complicated so: Samot is a wolf god anime prince from Friends at the Table, which is a very good and very gay podcast, Magneto/Erik is a electromagnetism-controlling extremist mutant from X-Men, which is a very bad but unfortunately compelling comic and movie franchise. It's good because Samot likes to watch a handsome, ambitious man craft things out of metal, and....Magneto likes someone to tell him what to do while they fuck
> 
> Anyway, this fic is a birthday present for Linda [imperialhare](https://twitter.com/imperialhare?lang=en), the other Samot/Magneto shipper and creator of this very good [Samot/Magneto art](https://twitter.com/imperialhare/status/1032352847592087552) that helped inspire this fic. Happy birthday, Linda!
> 
> Also, thanks to Emily [hedgemice](https://twitter.com/hedgemice?lang=en) for betaing!
> 
> Content notes: All the stuff in the tags. One partner is mean and condescending to the other as a sex thing. Also one partner surprises the other during sex, and the surprise is milk.

On the northern wall of the room is a mirror, fractal patterns branching across the silver frame, soft but still weaponizable. On the southern wall of the room is a painting of a dog, lush in red and white. On the bed is a beautiful man, and he sighs, “I’m ravenous.”

 

“Alright,” smiles Erik, pulling the window shut behind him. He lifts his cape off by the titanium sewn in the lining and floats it to settle neatly on a dresser. Before he can further disrobe, Samot is on him, faster than any baseline human could move, faster even than Erik can sense via electromagnetic disturbances. 

 

“Not for that,” says Samot, slapping Erik’s left hand away from where his teeth are ready to tug off his gloves. He obediently puts his hands around Samot’s waist instead. “Well, yes that,” Samot continues with a purr and a grind of his thigh, bare under his short dress, into Erik’s hardening cock, “But something new too. Here, to the bed.” He hitches his legs up around Erik’s waist, so Erik obligingly cups his ass and walks them both there. 

 

Erik lays Samot down on the bed and spends only a moment nuzzling at the fine bones of his ankles before Samot pushes his foot against Erik’s chest and flips their positions, straddling his thighs. There’s a mirror on the ceiling that wasn’t there last time he came here. He blinks up at how Samot’s curtain of golden hair falls over the two of them.

 

“You won’t need this,” says Samot, hooking a finger in the neck of his costume. In another flash, he tears Erik’s jumpsuit down his chest, the red fabric curling away with neat edges as if it had been cut with a knife. Erik barely suppresses a twitch of dismay, and Samot tuts at him. “You have such a lovely chest. Such a lovely body really, and you wear  _ that  _ over it?” He splays his small hand over Erik’s left pectoral. “At least you have these in though.” Samot gives the golden barbell in his nipple a flick. Erik is unable to prevent a shudder this time. He gets a smirk. 

 

Samot traces a finger down Erik’s sternum, his skin bright against Erik’s own. Erik breathes, and thinks of claws that appeared out of thin air, but Samot merely bends to follow the path of his finger with his tongue and sucks a slow bruise into Erik’s chest. “There,” he hums. 

 

“There?” asks Erik. His voice is already raspy. 

 

“You’ll know soon enough.” Samot’s blue eyes dance. “Such an important thing to learn, delayed gratification.” With one hand, he tears Erik’s suit all the way down to the groin, slowly this time, and with his other hand, he lifts Erik’s gloved hand to his mouth and licks the leather of the palm. “To occupy me in the meantime...touch yourself.”

 

He obediently slides his hand down to his cock, tests the unfamiliar feel of the damp leather on the head. Samot’s spit on the palm feels unnaturally cool against him. He tries tightening his grip, hisses with the friction, still somehow cold. Thumbs at the slit, cold kissing there too. Imagines Samot conjuring up chips of ice to slip inside him, shivers. Samot laughs then, as if he can tell what he’s thinking. “Pretty,” he coos at Erik. He bends with alarming flexibility to flick his tongue gently against the head of Erik’s cock where precome has begun to bead. The shock of cold nearly makes Erik buck him off, and Samot sharply pinches the inside of his thigh. “Be good,” Samot sighs, pressing a slim finger into the mark. Erik heaves out a long breath, stills. A beat. “Well, I didn’t tell you to stop touching yourself, did I?” Samot scolds, so Erik takes himself back in hand and does.

 

Violet eyes watch him for what feels like hours of sliding his cock through his gloved fist, could be hours for all he knows. Samot offers only a few hums of approval to punctuate the sound of Erik’s building breaths. His heart is pounding. Every part of him feels blood-swollen, from his hot, tight chest to his prick dripping precome. He’s hyperaware of Samot’s cool thighs perched on top of his. He tweaks the bars through his nipples with his powers, trying for additional stimulation, he’s close--

 

“No.” Samot stops him with a tap on his cheek. It should be laughable, him presuming to halt him by holding his fingers lightly to Erik’s face with a strand of hair fallen boyishly across his pouting face, but there’s something feral and stunning in it. “You really are something, aren’t you?” Erik does his best to give a vicious grin in response, but his skin feels too small for him. “All worked up. Not that I should reward poor behavior,” Samot continues, “But your big, pretty cock looks so nice and wet for me.” He taps at the slippery head with a fingernail, contemplating, and Erik lets out a long whine. Samot sits with the stillness of a predator a moment longer, then shrugs, hitches up his skirt, and sinks onto Erik in one long push.

 

Erik shouts. Despite the coolness of his fingers raking long, strange scratches down Erik’s heated chest, Samot is hot around his cock. He rides him with quick, sharp thrusts and sighs of satisfaction. Erik’s hands, still gloved in precome-soaked leather, can hardly stay on the graceful curves of his hips. Samot tosses his head back, hair flowing perfectly despite the sweat beading on his skin.  “Mmm, you always fill me up so well,” he sighs out. “Hot and eager and leaking deep inside me.” 

 

He leans in closer, his lips just brushing Erik’s temple. “You’ll feel so sweet leaking out of me too.” With a whimper, Erik grinds deep inside Samot and comes. It feels like it takes ages, Samot digging vicious little crescents into his ribs as he spends himself in pulses. 

 

When he’s finished, Samot has a wolfish grin, still braced over him. He rests his hand on Erik’s chest, which still feels oddly warm and swollen. “Take your piercings out for me.” Still in a post-orgasmic haze, Erik just softens the metal and pulls them out of his nipples in a liquid flow instead of fumbling with the threading. Samot smiles languidly. “There we are….all full and ready.” He presses down harder.

 

Erik squirms, and squirms again, as out of his nipple leaks warm, watery...milk? Samot growls appreciatively and tucks his dampened fingers into Erik’s mouth. It tastes sweet. Milk indeed. Even as he licks up the expelled droplets from Samot’s skin, he feels a strange tightness as his chest fills again, magically quick. He huffs in dismay. Samot presses a light kiss to his breast, then draws back to sit upright. 

 

“It’s important to have well-considered and well-communicated plans,” Samot lilts condescendingly, “Magneto.” His head is at a stately angle. “So here’s what my plans for you are. You’re going to fuck me, well, until I come on your cock, and then I’ll milk your tits until they’re empty.” He grinds his hips, and Erik abruptly realizes that his softening prick is still inside Samot. He grinds down again, harder, drawing sparks of shocking sensation through Erik’s body. 

 

“It’s too much,” Erik rasps. He looks over the tableau, arching his neck to see the mirror and then down his body. His cheeks are darkened and his nipples straining wet and hard on his aching chest, obscene in the mirror. Come is leaking slowly out of Samot and smearing all over him where they’re joined, and he feels like all the blood has left his head but he can’t get hard again, it hurts too much. “Please.” 

 

“Beg me nicely.” Samot’s eyes glitter like chips of ice. He gently strokes the line of Erik’s jaw. 

 

“Please,” Erik moans. “Please. It hurts. I—” With each stuttered plea, Samot is clenching down on his stubbornly half-hard cock. The pain that accompanies any pressure on his tender flesh drives his words out of his mind. “I’m too full, I can’t—Please.” 

 

“Oh poor man,” Samot clucks. “Can’t even form the words.” He slowly unfolds his limbs and climbs off Erik. The fresh lack of pressure on his skin is startling. “You did well coming even this far though.” Samot lightly cups Erik’s jaw, rubs little circles. It is good, it is sweet. 

 

With a cry, Erik pushes himself into the touch, rubs his face desperately into Samot’s hand. “No, please, touch me.” A new ache burns within him at the thought of it ending here. Erik arches his back to display his chest, need contorting him. Closes his eyes and feels his cheeks heat impossibly further. “Milk me.” 

 

Samot laughs, boyish delight illuminating him for a brief moment. “Oh...you really are something, aren’t you?” he echoes. He kisses the tip of Erik’s nose. “However, the terms still stand. I come on your cock or you stay full.” Samot punctuates this with a pinch of his nipple, bringing forth a brief spray of body-warm milk, and Erik is gone to the heat again. 

 

He feverishly wills blood to fill his cock, frantic at the idea of being kept like this any longer. He flexes the muscles in his stomach and groin, cries out from how the movement makes milk leak from his chest, too full to hold any more. He is straining and breathless and nearly doesn’t realize when he taps into the part of himself that wills nickel and steel and blood iron to move. Slowly, painfully, in a lightheaded churn, his metallokinesis fills his cock with blood again. 

 

“Resourceful,” Samot croons, running his knuckles along Erik’s cheek and then following with a cool hint of tongue. Erik tastes salt at the corner of his mouth and realizes that tears have started leaking out of his eyes. Samot rubs himself along the head of Erik’s cock, sticky and unbearable, and lets himself sink back on with bliss. 

 

“Oh, you feel even bigger than usual,” Samot sighs. He rubs his own stomach, and Erik swears even that hurts. “I need to have you do this more often from now on. Mmm…” He squirms and shudders breathily around Erik, who, with his last remaining facilities, reaches up to rub at at Samot’s hole, and the friction of the filthy leather has him coming in elegant strands. His come is a balm on Erik’s overheated skin, mixing with the warm milk leaking steadily from him now. 

 

Without another word, Samot leans down and pulls at his left nipple with his teeth, releasing a gush of milk into his clever, alarming mouth. His hand tugs at the other, pressing down, filling the room with the sweet scent. He switches his mouth to the other side after a few blissful minutes of emptying, smearing endless spurts of milk all over his skin on the way. With every suck, Samot wriggles around Erik’s cock, sending more delicious sparks of pain all over his body, and he can only sob and mewl and clutch at Samot’s golden head as his chest empties and softens. 

 

When the milk trickles off, only a few droplets intermittently beading up at the tips and piercing entrances of his nipples, Samot pulls off to lounge at his side. In the mirror, Erik is a wreck. His costume is ruined, shreds barely hanging off his sides. He is covered in the shining dregs of come and milk from aching chest to inflamed groin, and he spares a moment to nonsensically lament a waste of good sustenance. Samot apparently disagrees, his smirk smug as he meets Erik’s eyes in the mirror. It’s admittedly a good look on him. 

 

Erik closes his eyes, and Samot’s mouth is sweet and warm on his. 

**Author's Note:**

> Join us in Samot/Magneto hell, thanks
> 
> Some random thoughts:
> 
> 1) I have never written either lactation or Samot in my damn life so I hope I did it right
> 
> 2) My personal default Magneto is like 1/3 New Mutants era noble Magneto, 1/3 alternate timeline movies stylish weirdo Magneto, and 1/3 shit I just made up. You will pry the headcanon that he gave himself nipple piercings out of my cold dead hands
> 
> 3) This fic was very close to being named "some real calci-yum, if you know what I mean" despite it being the wrong FatT season


End file.
